


I Was Doing My Very Best Bogart

by remiges



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2018 NHL All-Star Weekend, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Double Penetration, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 08:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13923366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remiges/pseuds/remiges
Summary: "I was talking to Letang, and I was thinking you could both fuck me," Claude says, digging the lube out of Kris' bag. Sid doesn't want to know how he already knew where it was. "At the same time," he clarifies. It takes a minute for that to sink in, but when it does Sid has a sudden image of what that would look like, fuck, what that wouldfeellike.





	I Was Doing My Very Best Bogart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yeswayappianway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeswayappianway/gifts).



> Written for this prompt: _sid/claude/kris hooking up at the all star game_
> 
> Title from [Ready or Not](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OpQCl53K6EQ) by Jackson Browne, which has nothing to do with the fic. ...except that Claude and Tanger 100% hooked up for the first time after a bar fight.

Sid knows that Kris and Claude hook up during the season, but he doesn't know how they manage it. He's never been the kind of person who could compartmentalize lover and rival like that—sex just made everything complicated. But then again, Sid's currently in the middle of a threesome negotiation with the two of them in his and Kris' hotel room at the All-Star Game, so he guesses he's embracing complicated for the night.

"How are we doing this?" Sid asks. "Who's fucking who?" He knows Kris is only good for one orgasm before he gets too sensitive, and Sid doesn't usually like getting fucked, and he doesn't know about Claude. They're all O, but that doesn't account for sexual preferences, no matter what porn tries to say.

"I was talking to Letang, and I was thinking you could both fuck me," Claude says, digging the lube out of Kris' bag. Sid doesn't want to know how he already knew where it was. "At the same time," he clarifies. It takes a minute for that to sink in, but when it does Sid has a sudden image of what that would look like, fuck, what that would _feel_ like.  

"Yeah," Sid says, grateful his voice doesn't crack. "That sounds good with me." He's pretty sure he hasn't gotten hard this fast since he was a teenager.

"Okay," Claude says, slapping the lube in Kris' hand. "Use a lot, I'm not in heat until next week."

Everyone gets their clothes off pretty quickly after that.

"You blow him, I'll finger him?" Kris asks after they've fooled around for a while, the wet sounds of their mouths meeting loud in the room, hands exploring each other's bodies. Sid would like to have a chance to finger Claude himself, but he nods. Kris knows Claude's body better, and it's not like giving a blowjob is a hardship.

Kris sits down on the bed and pulls Claude back between his spread legs, bites playfully at his shoulder as he starts to finger him, and Sid drops one of the pillows to the carpet. "Have you done this before?" he asks when he's settled between Claude's thighs.

"What, get a blowjob?" Claude says, but Sid knows he's deflecting. He sets his mouth to the inside of Claude's thigh, nipping at the skin there before kissing it, and waits. Claude finally shakes his head but doesn't say anything else, and Sid lets it go.

"Don't choke me," he warns, and then he goes down on him. Claude is still mostly soft, but Sid knows he's good at sucking dick. There's something gratifying about how little time it takes him to get Claude fully hard, and he redoubles his efforts when Kris says something to Claude in French. It's too fast for him to follow, but he likes the cadence, the tone dark and warm enough to make him shiver.

Sid doesn't try to do anything fancy with the blowjob, but Claude seems to like it well enough. He pets Sid's hair but doesn't pull it or force him to take more than he wants, and Sid rewards him by going down further, rolling his balls with a hand. Claude's hips twitch forward in little jerks, but Sid thinks that's mostly due to Kris opening him up.

"Off," Claude finally says just as Sid's jaw is beginning to ache, and Sid pulls off with a pop. "I'm not getting fucked after I come, so if you want to do this, you'd better get started." He's flushed everywhere, and Sid is hit by the sudden urge to set his teeth to Claude's collarbone and _bite_.

"Pretty sure we already started," Kris tells him, slapping his ass before moving to Sid's bed, stripping the comforter off and throwing it on his own. Sid doesn't know why that does it, but everything suddenly seems more real. He's actually about to do this, to have sex with with Kris and Claude in a hotel room in Tampa. On sheets that Sid had _slept on_ last night, because he'd put out the Do Not Disturb sign so the maids hadn't been by.

"You still good?" Kris asks in an undertone, and Sid nods, shaking himself out of it.

"I'm good." Sid might not know how this changes things, but he's not backing out at the last minute, especially when confronted with the heat in Kris' gaze and the old bite mark on Claude's ass.

It takes some maneuvering, but they finally get arranged so Sid is on his back on the bed, Claude facing him and straddling his thighs. When he gets a hand around Sid's dick and sinks down on it, he makes a low pleased sound and rolls his hips.

"I know you're on suppressants," Claude says. "You ever fuck him when he's in heat?" He nods his chin over at Kris, who's putting more lube on his fingers. Kris looks up at that, but doesn't shake his head, so Sid answers truthfully.

"Sometimes," he tells him. Usually Kris has already made other plans, and things get complicated with team. Still, there have been a few times over the years that they've ended up together—a couple of Kris' scheduled heats, once after their first Cup win, though that was more like a team orgy. Once when Sid's heat came unexpectedly, though he was the only one in heat then. "Why?"

"I don't want you accusing me of sabotage if your suppressants fail because of this," Claude tells him, rocking his hips back.

Kris snorts at that, swinging a leg over Sid's thighs and getting behind Claude. "Cocky much? You're not even in heat."

Whatever Claude had been going to say gets cut off as Kris runs a finger around where Sid is joined to Claude. When he presses inexorably in, Sid shivers at the unfamiliar sensation and Claude huffs out a breath. "I—" Claude starts, and then seems to lose his train of thought.

"They aren't going to fail," Sid tells him, because that much he's sure of. "Not even if you went into heat right now. No sabotage, eh?" Sid starts jerking him off, keeping his touch light and Claude's dick interested while Kris works him open. Claude nods, distracted, and Kris squeezes Sid's leg in thanks.

It takes a while for Kris go from one finger to two, and then even longer for him to go up to three, fingers tucked in tight while Claude pants. "Ready?" Kris asks eventually, pulling free and shifting closer.

"I've been ready," Claude tells him, rolling his shoulders. "Come on."

"Remember—"

"To tell you to stop if I have to, yes, I'm not an idiot. Trust me, you'll know." Sid doesn't know how he's managing to sound so blasé, but the way Claude squeeze his knees against Sid's sides betrays his nerves.

As Kris lubes up his dick and wipes his hand off on the sheets, a swell of excitement starts building in Sid. He wants to look at Claude's hole, see the stretch when Kris gets in, but he contents himself with feeling Kris' dick nudge against the base of his own. It's not like he doesn't already have a good view, with how the flush from Claude's cheeks has spread across his chest.

"Here we go," Kris says, and starts to press forward. The pressure is intense, and for a long moment Sid thinks this isn't going to work, that Claude's too tight for this, that a body not in heat can't accommodate this kind of girth.

Then the head of Kris' cock pops in, and they all groan. "Holy fuck," Claude says, fingers spasming where he's got them around Sid's shoulders. "Holy—"

It's like nothing Sid's ever felt before, and Kris isn't even in all the way, let alone halfway. Claude is so tight that this has to be hurting him, and there's a crease in his brow, but he doesn't say stop. Sid takes a couple of deep breaths, and then Kris is inching forward. He pauses when Claude make a soft, wounded sound and says, "Shit, wait, wait."

"Okay?" Sid asks. Kris is holding very still, and it's taking all of Sid's willpower to keep from either moving or coming on the spot. "Do you need to stop?"

"No, fuck," Claude gasps. "Just hold still."

They stay like that for a minute, then another. Sid doesn't know what he can do to make this easier, or if they should just call the whole thing off right now, but Kris presses a hand to Claude's waist and starts taking to him in quiet French. Sid could probably figure out what he's saying if he concentrated, but this feels like something private, something just between the two of them.

"Okay," Claude eventually says. "Okay I'm good, but you have to go slow." He already looks strung out, and they haven't even started moving again.

"We will," Kris tells him, just as Sid says, "Of course."

Claude snorts, his inner muscles tightening as he does, and Sid can feel Kris' dick twitch forward against his own. It must be good, because Claude moans, a high shocked sound that lights Sid up from the inside.

"Kiss Sid," Kris tells him, fingertips white where he's holding onto Claude's hips. "I'll go slow." He starts working himself deeper, tiny inches of movement that have Sid's toes curling, but Sid keeps as still as he can and reels Claude in with a hand on the back of his sweaty neck. Claude kisses him messily, open-mouthed and uncoordinated. His dick is less than half-hard against Sid's abs, but it's starting to take an interest again. When Sid finally pulls back, he frowns at the moisture under Claude's eyes.

"Do you need—"

"It's just a lot," Claude gets out, moving his hips in a devastatingly slow arch. "If you stop now, I swear to god you'll regret it."

"Okay," Sid tells him, thumbing delicately at wetness. "Okay."

They manage to find a rhythm that works eventually, Sid and Kris taking turns thrusting forward. It's not fast, but it's incredibly intense, and Claude is still so tight, and it's all just... devastating. Absolutely devastating. Claude's mouth is hanging open as they fuck him, sucking air in little pants, and his cheeks are flushed. He keeps wetting his lips, fingers flexing on Sid's shoulders as they move. If that weren't enough, Kris is vision behind him, hair a mess, lips bitten, his dick pressed in tight next to Sid's.

Sid doesn't know how he's going to survive this, and that's before Kris starts jerking Claude off, easy and slow.

Claude is mostly incoherent by this point, but he gets _loud_ now. When Kris holds his hand out and Sid licks a stripe up his palm, Claude makes a tiny, desperate sound that Sid is going to be hearing in his dreams. Kris barely gets a hand on him before Claude starts to come, clamping down hard, and that's all it takes. Sid's orgasm catches him like a punch, shocking in its intensity, the darkness starbursting behind his closed eyes.

Sid can hear Kris swearing loudly in French, his dick still moving alongside Sid's, and he almost feels sorry for whoever is in the room next to theirs. Almost. Claude has curled forward is deadweight on his chest and Sid's orgasm is still sending bright sparks of pleasure through him, and most of his higher brain function has deserted him. When Kris comes, Sid can feel it. If he could get hard again right now, he's sure that would do it.

"God," Sid gasps when he manages to open his eyes again. Kris has his forehead pressed against the back of Claude's neck, sucking air like he just came off a double shift, and Claude is patting at Sid's side with an uncoordinated hand. "God," Sid repeats. That seems to sum it up.

They stay like that until Sid can feel Claude's dick softening against his belly, their breathing evening out. Claude's hole keeps tightening down like he's trying to keep a knot in, his body obviously under the impression there's an alpha around. The makeshift tie is starting to hurt, but when Sid goes to pull out Claude yelps against his neck and clamps down impossibly harder. Sid bites his lip against the overstimulation, and he can hear Kris groan, feel his fingers spasming between Claude's body and his own.

"Hey, you've got to relax, okay?" Kris says, voice steady.

"I'm trying," Claude grits out. He props himself up on Sid's chest with an arm, his pupils blown huge with pain or pleasure. Probably both, Sid thinks, steadying him as Claude sucks in a breath. Sid's been knotted before, but nothing like this. He can't even imagine what it feels like to be that full.

He pets Claude's sides with shaking hands, fingers tangling with Kris' while they wait. He doesn't know how long it takes, but finally Claude unclamps enough for Sid to slip out. Claude winces and tenses up again, judging by the look on Kris' face. Even with Claude's body trying to force a tie, Sid is sure that Kris could pull out if he wanted, especially since Sid is already out. He doesn't, though. Instead he says to Sid, "Hey, do you have any coal around here?"

"You make a diamond joke right now, you can kiss your chances of fucking me again this year goodbye," Claude groans, surprisingly coherent. "Why didn't anyone tell me about this part?"

"I forgot to check the omega orgy handbook, sorry," Kris parries back, but Sid notices he doesn't stop running his hands up and down Claude's thighs in easy strokes while he waits.

"Hit him for me," Claude tells Sid, and Sid huffs out a laugh.

"You'll get your chance in a minute."

The two of them stay tied together for another long span of seconds while Sid surreptitiously tries to stretch out his legs—Claude isn't exactly light. When Kris finally gets the nod to pull out, he presses a kiss to Claude's shoulder, shockingly sweet. Sid watches Claude's dick give one last twitch, like it's trying valiantly to get hard again. It makes something funny flip over in his chest, but Sid pushes it down. He doesn't even know which one of them he's jealous of, and anyway, this is a one-off. Sid shouldn't forget that.

"Come on," he tells Claude, helping him swing his leg over Sid's body without kneeing him anywhere. "Down you go."

They get him stretched out on top of the covers with some maneuvering, since Claude's not much help, and then it's just the three of them, sprawled out across most of the bed.

"So," Kris finally says, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face. "Good?"

"Holy fuck," Claude says. "Holy _fuck_." At least, that's what Sid thinks he says since Claude is boneless on the bed, facedown in the pillows. Sid's not sure how he's breathing, actually.

"Yeah," Sid echoes. Holy fuck sounds about right.  

"I'll get a washcloth," Kris says, but it takes him a long minute to lever himself up.

Sid stays where he is until he hears the faucet turn on, and then he starts to think that maybe it isn't his place to be here any more. He might not understand whatever thing Kris and Claude have going, but he's pretty sure they don't need a third wheel hanging around after all the orgasms have been had. He should leave, but his dick is still half-hard as his body responds to all the pheromones in the room, and he doesn't think it's going down any time soon.  

Claude must notice his predicament, because he props his head up on his hand and asks, "Do you like getting fingered?" He looks thoroughly fucked out like this—skin flushed, eyelids heavy, hair a mess. Even if Sid wasn't already hard, he'd want him.

"Yeah," Sid tells him, throat clicking as he swallows. "Yeah, I do."

"Do you want to?"

And that's a trickier question. Sid does, but if he says yes then it feels like this becomes something other than a fun way to end the weekend. It becomes something... more. Something complicated.

Still, it's not like Sid was ever going to give any other answer. "Please," he says, and Claude grins.

"He's just going to fall asleep on you," Kris calls from the bathroom. "He always does."

"Fuck off," Claude laughs, shifting closer so his breath tickles against the side of Sid's neck. "That was one time."

"One time, sure." Sid can hear Kris' eye roll without even seeing it. When he gets back with the washcloth, Claude spreads his legs, utterly unselfconscious, and lets Kris start cleaning him up.

Sid's not sure how Claude still has any fine-motor control left, but he arranges them so Claude can press a finger into him. Sid's suppressants cause him to produce less slick, so he's pretty dry when Claude tries to tuck two fingers in and doesn't manage to hide his wince.

"Hey, hold on a minute," Claude tells him, pulling back. Sid tries to reign in his embarrassment over the possibility that Claude might think he's not into this, as well as the perpetual hint of shame that always comes up when he thinks about his own biology.

Claude doesn't go far, though, just curls his fingers up in a 'come here' motion to Kris, who knee-walks closer. Claude pulls him down and kisses him filthily, one hand smoothing down his back until he hits the cleft of Kris' ass. When Kris makes a surprised noise in Claude's mouth, Sid doesn't get it until Claude shows him his slick-covered fingers. That's when the penny drops. Sid feels almost dizzy with the way the want hits him, going straight to his dick, and he spreads his legs out further like that will get Claude's fingers in him faster.

Claude laughs quietly, but it's not mocking. "You like that, huh? Thanks," he says over his shoulder to Kris, and Sid somehow knows he's smirking.

"You could have just asked for the lube, it's right there," Kris tells him, but he doesn't sound too put out.

"Yeah," Claude says, shifting toward Sid again, "but this was more fun."

Claude goes back to fingering him, and it's easier this time. He's good with his hands, but Sid had already known that from watching him play. He nudges his nose right under Sid's chin and starts nipping at the skin there, light enough that it's not going to leave a mark later. It's insanely good right up until Claude bites down suddenly, making Sid hisses.

"You're fine," Kris says, one hand on Claude's hip, the other easing a finger out of his hole. "You're fine, sorry."

"I know I'm fine," Claude grumbles, twisting around to glare at Kris, fingers stilling inside of Sid. "I could have told you that without having you jam your finger up my ass."

Sid coughs before they can start going at it. Kris shrugs at him in apology, but mutters mulishly, "I didn't _jam_ it."

Claude opens his mouth again, but Sid groans over whatever he'd been going to say. "I can just jerk myself off," he says, barely getting a hand around his dick before Claude is batting it away.

"Hold your horses, Croz," Claude tells him. "We'll get you there, Jesus."

Claude goes slow, torturously so, when he starts up again. When Kris lobs the washcloth in the direction of the bathroom, Sid can't be bothered to see if it actually makes it there. All of his attention is taken up with the way Claude is mouthing at his neck, all uncoordinated kisses and swipes of tongue. The other side of the bed dips when Kris come around to the other side, and then there's a hand on his dick and Sid moans.

He doesn't know how long they stay there like that, the two of them playing his body like an fine-tuned instrument, but it feels like forever. His cock is drooling and his balls pulled up tight when Kris finally takes his hand away. Sid almost sobs.

"I told you," Kris says quietly, nodding across him. When Sid looks over, he can see that Claude's eyes are shut. He's still got a couple of fingers pressed inside him, but thinking back Sid can't remember his movements slowing to stillness. Claude's mouth is partway open, like he'd drifted off between one kiss and the next, and it would be hilarious if Sid didn't need to get off so bad.

Kris eases Claude's fingers out, moving his hand to Sid's chest before getting down to business again. He tucks his own fingers where Claude's had been, and even though the slick has worn off and the angle is a little wonky, it's good. Sid comes within a minute when Kris gets a hand around him again, and just barely has enough presence of mind to shove the palm of his hand in his mouth so he won't wake up Claude.  

"Jesus Christ," he whispers when he's come back down. "Is it always like this?" The whole sleeping with your rival thing is starting to make a lot more sense now.

"I mean, it's not usually this intense, but it's good," Kris tells him. "Look, I know you're not big on the whole knotting thing, but Giroux fisted me so good one time that I cried."

As if by agreement they both look at Claude, still conked out on top of the covers. Sid doesn't like getting knotted as a rule, not even during heats, but he can imagine it. Claude's clever hands, Kris' lips bitten red, the unrelenting stretch of Claude's wrist holding him open.

Sid swallows and looks away, sure his want is written all over his face.

After they've cleaned up as best they can at the bathroom sink and are standing in the main room again, Kris asks in an undertone, "Hey, so are you staying? I can go find somewhere else to sleep, I'm sure it won't be too hard."

The question doesn't make any sense. "Me? But you're together." Sid's not an idiot—he saw how Kris and Claude moved around each other, familiar and easy. Tonight was one thing, but he doesn't want to mess up whatever they've got going, even if he's probably going to carry this memory around with him forever.

Kris gives him an unimpressed look. "We're not together. And I'm not the one who's had some sort of weird hate-love thing going with him for over a decade."

"It hasn't been over a decade," Sid hisses, feeling oddly betrayed. "And it's not a thing, it's just—"

"Sid, for fuck's sake—"

"Hey." Claude's got one eye cracked open, his voice rough. "Both of you. Shut up, or you're sleeping on the other bed."

Sid and Kris look at each other for a long minute until Kris shrugs. "You know this is our room?" he asks, nudging Sid toward the bed. "We could just kick you out."

"Yeah?" Claude says, shoving the covers down so he can get under them. "Good luck with that."

He falls back asleep in between Kris getting the lights and Sid collecting more pillows from the other bed, and they arrange themselves on either side of him because Claude is hogging the middle.

"You know, it would have made more sense to sleep in the bed we didn't have sex on," Sid tells Kris eventually, his voice pitched low. He's lying in a wet spot that's either lube, come, or someone's slick, and he can't decide which he would prefer.

"Fucking right," Kris whispers back, but neither of them move to get up.

**Author's Note:**

> ...and they have fantastically kinky sex at various volumes in all sorts of questionable places and live happily ever after. 
> 
> In the room next to Sid and Tanger’s, Flower starts cussing up a storm the minute he hears Claude’s voice through the wall and abandons the room to go coordinate an extremely flexible goalie orgy. He’s Heard Some Shit in his day, and there’s only so many times a man can listen to his teammate get deep dicked by a Flyer, no matter what kind of chirping material comes out of it.
> 
> As always, come hang out with me on [tumblr!](https://enter-remiges.tumblr.com/)


End file.
